Chapter 3 - THE COAT IN THE CLOSET
“Run away?” I echoed, my chest tightening. “Dante, she loved you. She loved Lucy.”
Dante stared at the train ticket, his jaw clenched tight. “In my world, Mara, love is a liability. I thought her brakes failed. I tore the mechanic apart, but he swore they were cut. I blamed a rival family. I went to war over it.”
He paced the length of the nursery, the ticket crinkling in his massive fist.
“If she was running, someone inside this house knew,” he muttered. “Someone helped her pack. Someone made sure she never made it to that train.”
I looked at Lucy. She was fast asleep, exhausted by the emotional toll of the evening.
“Celine had the locket,” I said quietly. “Lucy found it in her shoe.”
Dante stopped pacing. “Celine didn't move in until six months after Elena died. How did she get it?”
“She must have taken it from Elena’s room before you locked it up.”
Dante walked to the door. “Stay with Lucy. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone.”
He left. I locked the deadbolt, my hands shaking.
For an hour, I sat in the dark, listening to the heavy footsteps downstairs, the muffled shouting, and finally, the slam of the front door. Celine was gone.
I needed a glass of water. My throat was entirely dry. Leaving Lucy sleeping soundly, I slipped out into the silent hallway and crept down the back stairs.
As I passed the mudroom, a flash of red caught my eye.
It was Celine’s expensive cashmere winter coat, discarded on a chair. She had left in such a rush she’d forgotten it.
I don't know what possessed me, but I walked over to it. I slipped my hand into the deep pocket.
My fingers brushed against a heavy, metallic object. I pulled it out.
It was Dante’s silver pocket watch—a family heirloom he kept locked in his study.
Why would Celine steal his watch?
I flipped the watch over. Engraved on the back, hastily scratched into the silver with a sharp point, were three words:
Check the garage.
A cold chill ran down my spine. The handwriting wasn't Celine's elegant cursive. It was blocky and frantic.
Before I could process it, a hand clamped down heavily on my shoulder from behind.
I spun around, dropping the coat.
May you like
It was Matteo, Dante’s younger brother and syndicate underboss. He smelled of scotch and expensive cologne, but his eyes were cold and calculating.
“Snooping through Celine’s things, Mara?” Matteo asked, a cruel smile touching his lips. “Careful. The last woman in this house who asked too many questions ended up in a ditch on the coastal highway.”
